Twisted Affections
by Spazzila
Summary: Love is a twisted thing. Warning: contains explicit material. You have been warned.
1. So Pretty

So pretty.

She was so pretty.

He tilted his head to the side, his contented smile placed on his lips. She was so pretty, he thought. So pretty when she was sitting. Walking. Eating. Sleeping. Showering. Playing. Reading. Talking.

He loved how pretty she was and he told her, but she never took him seriously. She would just laugh that pretty laugh and smile that pretty smile. That pretty smile he wanted. That pretty laugh he wanted to hear in a high pitched scream.

His violet eyes followed her movements. The fog of her breath puffing out in the cold as she huddled into herself. Her feet shuffling through the snow. His own feet striding silently forward.

So pretty.

I love her. That's what he told himself at first, but love turned into want, into possession. The it was; I want her, I need her, I will have her.

Her suitors disappeared, the last thing that left their mouths were not marriage proposals that angered him so much, no the last things were screams. Screams and moans. Moans of pain mixing with screams of terror.

And she loves me too. He could almost hear her say it, his mind playing out countless of scenarios. She wants me to want her, to need her, to own her.

That's what she wants, his mind would whisper in the silence. Own her. Go. Take her.

And so he did.

His leather clad hand clamping on her shoulder. There was so much bliss he lost himself. He lost himself in the gripping, ripping, growling, scratching.

And then she started screaming.

Her screams rang in his ears and he smiled. Her screams were even more beautiful than he could have imagined. And she felt so good in his grip, she was his just like they had both wanted.

And when he wrapped her around him, he almost lost it, almost.

He loved her in red. Her red dresses, shirts, her red flowers in her hair. But in his opinion you looked loveliest when you were painted in the red of your own body. The red that poured from your veins across you. It fell onto his being. Pooled in stark contrast with the white snow.

Grin stretched wide over his lips. Her blood smearing on his cheek as she raised her hand against him feeble attempts to fight. So feeble he laughed. He enjoyed how much you liked to play.

Wheezing, breath slowing she whispered through red painted lips, "Why, Ivan?"

And with a smile he answered as the light faded from her eyes. "Because I love you, I love you."

And he did.

He had loved you so much.


	2. Marry Me

Dead eyes.

Dead brown eyes are the first thing you see as you crack your eyes open, you couldn't remember what had happened, but you had a sickening feeling twisting in your stomach.

Your own eyes widened as your eyes connected with the lifeless ones of your recently wed husband. His dull eyes stared at you, glasses a skew and a trail of blood from his mouth dried on his chin.

Your breathing picked up in panic as you gasped for air, wishing this all away. You tried to reach for him only to find your hand tightly bound behind you in a creaky chair in a similar position as your husband.

Tears flowed down your cheeks and your shriek of agony ripped from your chest.

"RODERICH!"

Sobs shook you violently as screams of hysteria ripped from your throat. Eyes as red as the blood staining the front of your husband's dress shirt watched you mourn over your husband before stepping into the pool of light created by the hanging lamp.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" he exclaimed with a clap of his hands. You showed no reaction, eyes still glued to the corpse of your love.

Red eyes narrowed at this. In his opinion Roderich deserved to die. He had taken away everything he loved, first it was Elizabeta and then you. That bastard needed to die. And he had to be the one to do it.

And now you two could be together, just like you always should have been. He tried with Elizabeta, she fought, she had an accident.

But you were different. That's what he said to himself. You were sweet, docile, and so very precious.

"I'm so glad you're awake." He tried again. This time your wide terrified eyes slid up to him. He kneeled down before you and smiled up at you with an air of delusion and hysteria around him. "I took care of him, now there's nothing in the way of our love."

"Roderich…" You trailed off body trembling violently, eyes wide and hysterical.

"No, not Roderich, it's me." He reached out and cradled your face in his hands. "It's your love."

You began shaking your head, "You…you killed Roderich."

His eyes flashed in anger his hand threading painfully through your hair. "No!" he roared flying to his feet and pulling your hair back to look up at him. "Not Roderich!"

Sobs wracked through your body again, tears streaking down your face.

He loosened his grip and leaned down to press one-sided forceful kisses to your lips. "Shh." He coaxed you. "It's alright, don't cry." He stroked your hair though tears still fell from your eyes. "It's fine now, smile.

When you didn't follow his command his hand shot out striking you across the face. With a sob you turned back to him with a forced smile, terror flooding your veins.

He smiled to. "Good, a woman should be happy on her wedding day." He reached behind him and pulled out a veil, harshly shoving it into your hair, the teeth of the comb scratching your scalp.

The next thing he pulled out was a gun, no doubt the same one that had killed your love and unknown to you it also dealt death to your best friend, her wavy brown hair meshing with the soil of his back yard, green dress stained with dirt. "And then, then we will go to heaven together and watch him and Elizabeta rot in hell. Isn't that great?"

"No…" you said as he cocked the gun. "No, the only one going to hell," He raised the gun to your forehead. "is you, Gilbert."

_BANG_

Police report; Four bodies, two male, two female. Three in the basement and one several weeks old buried in the yard. One, Gilbert Beilshmidt, suicide.


	3. Whore

Your lungs burnt with the heaving sobs that wracked through your disheveled body. You peered up through your blood stained hair into the hateful blue eyes of your captor, a sneer of disgust curling on her dainty lips.

"Please…Belarus…" Your raw throat protested at every breath you took. "I didn't…this is crazy."

You underwear clad form shivered as the cold from the stone floor crept into your bones as your life blood seeped from your countless wounds. You watched with wavering vision as the woman before you knelt down to your level, blood stained skirt pooling on the blood splattered floors.

Your breath stopped as her cold blade once again pressed against your collar bone. Another sob bubbled up from your lips, your eyes clenching shut from the pain that was sure to come.

"Crazy?" She asked in a tone of wavering sanity. "You know what's crazy?"

The steel edge bit into your collarbone, you strained your arms to lift you away from the pain but the exhausted limbs offered no help, numb from holding your body against the cobblestone wall.

"Crazy is when the man you've been trying your whole life to get comes home with some _whore_ and proposes to her in front of you." A deranged grinned split her face at the sight of your life blood dripping down your neck. "And then when everyone get all excited a few months later because that _whore_ is pregnant."

The blood splotched knife trails down your jumping muscles to rest against your stomach. You suck your gut in from the blade only for it to follow, fresh tears stream down your face.

She glides the knife back up with a superior smirk haunting her features.

"I guess you're luck it was a false positive." She cackles at the whimper that streams from your lips, her malicious eyes admiring the work she's done so far.

Cuts litter every inch of your body, painting it red with the red that runs through your veins, but your stomach stays clean, untouched by her collection of daggers. Your face is marred now with shallow cuts that will later develop into scars should you survive this. Your arm shake from the effort of holding your body for countless hours, the dirty, rusted cuffs chaining your hands to the wall cut against your wrist, streams of read trailing from the blisters and welts you created from your struggling.

Your throat has long been cut raw; screams no longer escaped your blue tinted lips. All color has drained from your body and on to the stone floor, crimson freezing on the ice cold floor. You don't know how long it's been, hours, days, weeks. It doesn't matter, you won't last much longer.

The blond towering in front of you lashed out in another fit of jealous rage, adding another gash to your cheek before grabbing and yanking at your hair. She forced you to look into her loathing blue eyes.

"But you won't have to worry about getting pregnant for long."

Your eyes blew wide and you looked at her pleadingly. She couldn't, anything but that, she can't take that from you, you want to be able to have children. The cold steel now felt red hot when it pressed against your quivering stomach.

She couldn't do this; she was going to take everything from you. You wanted to give Ivan children, a family. He probably wouldn't even want you even more, who would? Every inch of your body would be covered in scars, and soon you wouldn't even be able to bear children. What was the point, you would rather die.

"Don't!" you shrieked in spite of your burning throat. "For the love of god. Natalia! Don't do this! Please!"

But your cries of desperation fell on deaf ears as the grinning woman began to carve into your flesh with her instrument of torture. You were sobbing and thrashing now, screams ripped from your throat in a desperate attempt to stop the knife slicing white hot pain into your stomach.

You stopped when she pulled away and looked up at her with grateful, watering eyes. You shaky voice managed.

"Natalia, thank y-"

"Shut up, you slut," her icy tone cut you off. "I'm just taking a look at my handy work."

Your heart seized up in fear as you dared a glance down to your own abdomen. Carved crudely into your skin, running red, was the word 'Whore', forever engraved on your being.

"And now starts the real procedure."

Your heart stopped in your chest, fear creeping into every vein of your body, turning you to ice. You didn't even feel the inferno of pain when she plunged the knife deep into your lower abdomen.

You heard shrieks, but didn't even know they were your own. All you could see was all the happiness in your life slipping away. No child. No family. No happy ending with the man you loved.

You felt nothing as she butchered your womb; the pain was overshadowed by pure rage. You lunged at her, yanking against your chains, ripping them to shreds on the sharp iron.

"KILL ME!" You screamed at her. "JUST KILL, ME YOU BITCH!"

You managed to sink your teeth into her neck, ripping as much flesh as you could from her pale body, your own becoming shaky. Blue from the cold was creeping into screeching lips.

You stood tall none the less, eyes seething with insanity. Your mad laughter echoed through the cold dungeon, stopping the female in front of you in her tracks.

"Why not the kill me?" you threw your body at her. "Come on just kill me! You've taken everything from me!"

When she just stared at you, knife in hand, your visage melted from hysterical to enraged.

"COME ON! IF YOU WON'T KILL ME THEN I WILL! BETTER YET I'LL KILL YOU!"

Insanity consumed your mind as you continued to screech at her, watering eyes wide with madness, teeth barred in fury.

"WHY NOT? I'M UGLY, BARREN! NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO! ALL I WANTED WERE CHILDREN WITH IVAN! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU DO, HE WILL NEVER LOVE Y-"

Your shouts died on your lips when cold steel sunk into your chest. You looked down to see the knife suck into you chest to the hilt, right where your heart was. The cold seem to spread from the blade through your body, turning your veins to ice. Everything slowed and you felt a final sense of both dread and contentment. Your limbs moved sluggishly at your command and a trail of blood streamed from your lips, painting them bright crimson. Gray fought with your vision as you teetered on the edge of the abyss of death.

The last thing that you saw was light filtering through the open door as a pair of familiar violet eyes meet your with a look of shocked horror.

'_Ivan, I love you.'_


End file.
